


electric candlelight

by spaceboy_niko



Series: he likes my taste (he likes my waist) [2]
Category: Sorted (Website) RPF
Genre: Corsetry, Crossdressing, Dry Humping, Lingerie, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/spaceboy_niko
Summary: “That much of a looker in drag, are you?” Barry asks cheekily.“I’m not sure if I’d call this drag, as such,” Mike says contemplatively as he swipes stuff from a palette over Barry’s cheekbones and jaw. “I think it’s less arty than drag. I’m just a guy in a wig and a dress.”“You’re a very good looking guy in a wig and a dress, though,” Barry points out.





	electric candlelight

 

Mike tosses Barry his scarf and wraps his own around his neck. “Hey, Barry, you free this weekend?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering. We haven’t hung out for a while, was wondering if it was time for a girls’ night in.” Mike leans in closer and lowers his voice as he grabs his keys. “Apparently you’ve got something fun to dress up in, hmm?”

“Wh– I– how did you–“

Mike laughs. “How did you think Jamie found out how not to kill you in that thing? Longest phone call I’ve ever had with the guy. Anyways, my place, Saturday, bring the corset.”

Mike’s gone before Barry can protest.

* * *

A girls’ night in with Mike is normally them hanging out on the couch in their sweatpants and playing FIFA while eating takeaway, so when Mike texts him and tells him to shave _everywhere_ , Barry is more curious than concerned with what Mike has planned.

He arrives with the corset in an opaque plastic bag, and when Mike opens his door he yanks Barry in by the arm and closes the door abruptly behind him.

“Let’s see it?”

Barry takes out the corset, and Mike has never looked more excited. “Barry Taylor, you’ve got good taste!”

“So, um, why did you want me to bring it?”

“Because I,” Mike begins, leading Barry into his bedroom, “want to dress you up.”

“Like how dressed up?”

“Like This Morning Gets Sorted dressed up, but better.”

Mike’s looking at him questioningly, waiting for an answer. It’s not a conventional offer, that’s plain to see, and it takes Barry a little while to process.

“I,” Barry says, “am not drunk enough for this.”

“And I,” Mike replies, “have prosecco.”

So they sit on Mike’s bed and drink, and they chat about nothing in particular, until the bottle’s almost empty and Barry is comfortably tipsy.

“Okay,” he says, interrupting what Mike was saying.

“Okay?”

“Okay, you can dress me up.”

* * *

“So, how often do you actually do this?” Barry asks as Mike sits him down in front of the mirror.

“Enough,” Mike answers vaguely, grabbing brushes and palettes and shaking a little bottle of foundation. “I go out every so often.”

Barry makes a questioning noise as Mike begins to apply the makeup.

“What? The girls think I’m their new best friend, the guys want to know how much is real, and everyone buys me drinks.” He brushes powder all over Barry’s face, making him cough. “Everyone.”

“That much of a looker in drag, are you?” Barry asks cheekily.

“I’m not sure if I’d call this drag, as such,” Mike says contemplatively as he swipes stuff from a palette over Barry’s cheekbones and jaw. “I think it’s less arty than drag. I’m just a guy in a wig and a dress.”

“You’re a very good looking guy in a wig and a dress, though,” Barry points out.

“You flatter me. Shut your eyes for me?”

Mike spins his chair around, away from the mirror, and continues, telling Barry to _open, shut, pout, don’t blink, for fuck’s sake don’t touch your face Baz!_

Mike dusts a last bit of powder on Barry’s nose and sits back from his handiwork. “Oh, she’s _beautiful_ , Baz, you have no idea.”

Barry tries to lean around Mike to see in the mirror, but Mike keeps getting in his way, so all he gets are vaguely Barry-esque shapes.

“You can’t look at her yet, she’s not fully ready. Let’s fix that hair of yours.”

Mike leads him out of the bathroom and into his wardrobe, where he looks through wigs and mutters to himself.

“She can’t be blonde, she just can’t, so it has to be brunette, but it can’t be that one because that’ll make her look like a slut and I will not have my sister dressed as a slut!”

Barry feels something strange and warm bubble up inside his chest as Mike says the word ‘sister’.

Mike eventually settles on a long brown wig that he sits on a mannequin between his knees and curls with the most menacing-looking curling tongs Barry’s ever seen.

“Hands like this,” Mike says, holding his first two fingers in front of his forehead.

Barry does, and Mike helps him hook a wig cap and then the wig onto his head.

“Now,” Mike says, “let’s get you into that gorgeous corset of yours, and then we’ll dress you up.”

Barry goes to do up the busk of the corset and Mike winces. “Don’t do it hook by hook, you’ll ruin it. Like this,” and he hooks together the top clasp and uses the bottom clasp to hook them all together at once. It takes a couple of goes, but feels distinctly easier than what Barry’s been struggling with.

Mike laces him up fairly quickly with well-practiced motions, letting Barry catch his breath before he ties him up properly, and looks Barry over scrutinisingly.

“Your waist is ridiculous. I’m not sure I have anything that’ll stay up on you.”

Barry laughs, and the corset pushes the air out of his lungs differently and it sounds higher, more feminine.

Mike rummages through his wardrobe, occasionally asking him questions like “Dress or skirt?” and “Do you want me to give you tits?” They’re questions Barry had never thought he’d have to answer, but tonight is a night of things Barry had never thought of, so naturally he replies _skirt, please_ , and _obviously_.

Barry catches the lacy underwear Mike tosses him and changes out of his briefs before tugging on the panties and a cream skirt that sits right on his hips and just brushes the midway point of his thighs. Mike wrangles him into a bra and inserts before buttoning him into a lovely fifties-style blouse, leaving the top three buttons undone. He brushes more makeup over Barry’s chest, and covers his eyes when he tries to look in the mirror, before throwing him thigh-high stockings and platform heels.

Once Barry’s finally ready, Mike covers his eyes one more time and guides him to the mirror before removing his hand with a flourish.

“What a stunner,” Mike whispers, hanging off his neck with a dreamy look in his eyes, and Barry has to wholeheartedly agree with him. He’s got smoky, almost sultry eyes and red lips that seem fuller and brighter, with beachy waves in his long brown hair, and he didn’t realise his legs looked this good when his waist looked like that, but the main thing that catches his eye is _holy shit Mike’s given me a fucking cleavage and a half._

“Thank you, Mike,” Barry whispers back.

“She needs a name, though. A lady this pretty needs a name to match.”

Barry’s got nothing, but Mike is looking him up and down pensively.

“Jessica,” he decides. “We’ll call you Jessica. Like Rabbit, but not drawn bad.”

“Hello, Mike,” Barry tries. “I’m Jessica. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Jessica. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting dressed up too.”

* * *

Barry feels almost self-conscious when Mike sashays out – he’s blonde and in a skin-tight dress that shows off all his curves, real and fake.

“How the hell,” Barry asks as Mike finishes his lips, “did you hide your dick? How is it so _flat_ down there?!”

“Magic, and a whole lot of practise,” Mike replies, and there’s a new swing in his hips as he crosses the room to Barry. “Want a handful of this?”

Barry could swear Mike’s fake chest feels real, up until the point Mike does a little shimmy and his tits defy physics just enough to make him laugh.

“Jessica, I’d like to introduce you to Janice, your big sister from another mister!” He does a little twirl in his heels and poses.

Barry can’t help but laugh. “Been projecting, have you, Mike?”

Mike rolls his eyes, and the motion seems exaggerated with his eye makeup. “Shut up, Jess.”

The name makes him remember the plans for the night, and he leans up and kisses Mike on both cheeks. “Well, it’s just lovely to meet you, Janice!”

They stand in the mirror for a while, observing each other and themselves, before Mike breaks the silence. “You’ve got a better waist than me.”

“You’ve got a better arse than me.”

“You’ve got better legs than me.”

“You’ve got the best tits I’ve seen on any human being. If it wasn’t all detachable, you could be a porn star.”

Mike grins. “Didn’t think girls in porn would be your type.”

“You in porn would be my type,” Barry replies.

Mike doesn't reply, but instead tangles a hand in the back of Barry’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss, smearing his still-sticky pink over the glossy red on Barry’s lips. He tastes like lipstick and prosecco and something else that Barry can only describe as so inherently Mike. It’s messy and intoxicating and, as Barry learns when Mike moans into his mouth and grabs at his chest, utterly confusing.

“I’m not sure if I’m gay or a lesbian now,” Barry says when they break for air.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Mike grins. “Let’s see if I’m the porn star of your wet dreams.”

Barry kisses him again with enthusiasm, and Mike gets a couple of hands under his skirt and hoists him up into the air. The fabric swishes against his legs and pools behind him as Mike sits him right on the edge of the bed, corset holding his back ramrod straight.

Mike nudges Barry’s thighs apart and drops onto his knees. “Let me eat you out, babe.”

Barry makes a high noise and spreads his legs willingly.

“Good girl,” Mike says with a smile.

There’s not much holding Barry’s dick in place – it would’ve been fine if Mike didn’t pick him up like the female lead in a rom-com – but Mike passes it by, instead pushing the soft pink fabric aside to show off Barry’s hole and lick a teasing stripe over it.

Barry doesn’t get rimmed very often, which is a damn shame in his opinion, but as Mike opens him up with his tongue, he realises he’s never going to have someone eat him out with as much care and gusto as Mike. The man has a silver tongue, and obviously hands of silver too, if the way Barry’s legs are shaking in his heels is any indication of Mike’s talent.

Barry tangles a hand in Mike’s hair and grinds his hips into Mike’s face, and the noise that comes out of him is wantonly and unashamedly feminine – the angles of the face underneath Barry are so undoubtedly Mike, but the hair and the dress and the body peeking out from under his skirt makes him think it could be any girl sliding her fingers over his prostate alongside her tongue.

It’s confusing, yet sexy.

“I– fuck– Ja– _Mike_ ,” Barry sputters, and Mike pulls away with a wet sound, wiping his hand down on the bedspread. Barry is about to complain when Mike pushes him down onto his back and kisses him hard on the lips, rolling his hips into Barry’s and finally, _finally_ , giving some friction to his hard-on. The movement rucks up his skirt and his blouse shifts up, revealing the corset, as Mike keeps grinding his still-oddly-flat pelvis against Barry.

Barry sinks into the mattress, feeling his hair pooled out under his arms, and lets Mike rub off against him, enjoying the stimulation and the warmth in his groin. When he comes, it’s quiet but messy as he spills into his underwear, and Mike follows suit and collapses on top of him.

Mike rolls over and fishes around under his dress with a few winces before pulling out a tangled mess of come-covered duct tape.

“So _that’s_ your secret,” Barry says in mild horror.

“Magic, duct tape, and a whole lot of practise,” Mike laughs.

Barry peels himself out of the ruined underwear and looks at them with the same disgust. “Sorry,” he says, in a not at all sorry-sounding voice.

“Don’t worry about it. You can buy dinner if you feel that bad.”

They move to the couch, still in dresses and shoes and wigs, and Barry orders Chinese while Mike boots up his console.

* * *

Barry yanks Mike’s headphones off his head when he comes into work on Monday.

“You bitch,” he hisses quietly. “I’ve been scrubbing lipstick off my arsehole for two days!”

Mike looks gleeful. “You weren’t complaining at the time, mate!”

Barry cuffs him on the back of the head. “Shut up, _Janice_.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Mike calls after him as he goes to his desk. “I could’ve worn red!”

**Author's Note:**

> this is the only thing keeping me alive at this point tbh my love for barry taylor in lingerie and maybe drag
> 
> ty to sorted discord for dousing this lingerie trash fire with gasoline
> 
> (title from lola by the kinks, as was most of the inspo for this)


End file.
